


The Midnight Cloud

by StormWildcat



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Biting, Grinding, M/M, Seduction, Surprise Kissing, Surprise Sex, Ten Years Later, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6743773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormWildcat/pseuds/StormWildcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another late night finds Gokudera alone in his office, the moonlight cascading through the windows behind him. At least...he starts out alone.</p><p>((Slightly non-consensual at first but it becomes...wanted XD))</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Midnight Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me if Hibari is a little off. I don't usually write about the Cloud bastard but I had to do this for one of my bestie's BIRFDAY! Enjoy the 1859, you shit!
> 
> This starts somewhat on the non-consensual side but don't worry, it gets better.

“Mmm?”

It wasn’t often that Gokudera received a late night visitor in his office. Over all the years after the tenth generation of Vongola took hold of the Italy-based HQ, it was incredibly rare that anyone simply walked into his office. Run in a panic, sure. But calmly, coolly and quietly strolled in? When the moon was this high? No, that was practically unheard of. So as would be expected, the Right Hand was curious as to who his guest was and their purpose.

Bright green eyes glanced up from his paperwork and widened ever so slightly at the man before him. Before he looked, the Storm Guardian guessed that either Yamamoto was wondering in with that doofy grin from his teenage years still painted on his face. Or Juudaime with a new mission for him. Even Lambo, wiping sleep from his eyes, made far more sense than who he was staring at then.

Sharp gray peered out from between perfect black bangs. Somewhere deep down, Hayato scoffed. No matter how much time has passed and how many times the tonfa-user has come to the Family’s rescue (when he felt it necessary), something about how Hibari looked still pissed him off. Far as Gokudera was concerned, he was still a Cloud bastard.

“Hibari, what an unexpected surprise. What brings you to my office this late?” the silver-haired Mafioso questioned, eyes focused on his comrade for only half the greeting, voice almost sarcastic and unamused for the majority.

There was a just barely noticeable shift in Kyoya’s weight and his lips pulled a bit thinner. Yet he stayed silent. What else was new? He was never the chatty type and maturity didn’t seem to fix that. Except when it came to Tsuna, and the bomber supposed at least there was that. But he was in charge of the Guardians and he demanded respect from all of them, the elusive Cloud being no exception.

To Gokudera’s credit, he waited for as long as he could muster before losing his cool. Patience was still not quite a virtue of his. And he had used all of it on Ryohei and Yamamoto earlier in the day. Paperwork sucked out any humanity he managed to cling to. Nothing was left for Hibari’s infuriating silence. “Oi, I asked you what you want,” he practically growled. Was the best he could do to keep from shouting in the middle of the night. Tsuna’s bedroom wasn’t far and last thing he wanted was to wake the Boss.

Silence again. The pen in his grasp started to feel the pressure of Dera’s tensing grip. Fist lightly banged on the mahogany desk as he glared up his brow at the noiseless visitor. “Hibari. What. Do. You. Want?”

Maybe it was the long day. Or the shadows from the moon and trees playing with his eyes in the dimly lit room. Regardless, after gray eyes narrowed and those pulled lips turned up into a smirk, it seemed like Hibari _disappeared_. Suddenly Gokudera was completely on edge, but not out of rage. More like blood-curdling worry. Sure they were allies and they were bound together by their Boss, but there was always a possibility that the Namimori loner would double-cross them. And should that happen to any of the others in one-on-one combat, it wouldn’t be favorable to the one not carrying tonfas. Certainly Gokudera was strong, and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.

Nothing caused fear in Hibari. Not a damn thing.

Except maybe a school fire.

As quickly as the old disciplinary committee tyrant vanished, he reappeared behind the bomber. Green eyes focused on the darkness ahead that hid his door. Should he shout for help? Defend himself? Attack? It was so late. His brain wasn’t operating at its fullest potential but his body at least understood the concept of fight or flight. And as was customary of Gokudera’s natural response, fight kicked in hard.

Sensing the warmth of Hibari’s body behind him, Hayato hadn’t the time to reach for his signature bombs hidden away in his desk. Instead his folded his arm and pointed his elbow, launching the tough bone towards the open torso a mere foot away.

It wasn’t enough.

Not against a man who fights primarily hand-to-hand. With a terrifying amount of ease, slender finger forcibly wrapped around Gokudera’s wrist and arm, contorting it while simultaneously spinning his expensive office chair and forcing him to open up to the Cloud. Before he could command his other fist to back him up, he found it also blocked and pinned. “Shit!” he spat. Hibari was moving in fast, eyes piercing into him. This was it. It was the end. There was little he could do. The bomber sucked in a sharp breath and held onto it, his eyes automatically clamping shut, not wanting to see what was about to happen. It was just too late after too long of a day. Sleep was coming. It would be permanent.

Hibari closed the space between them. Steady breath caressed Gokudera’s face. Skin touched skin. Unexpected warmth pressed to his lips.

Wait.

The Storm’s eyes shot open, a muffled sound of pure shock scratching at his smoke-weakened throat. The same fingers that so painfully blocked and reversed his attacks maintained their grip but were less hurtful. Only by a bit, but enough to allow those nerve endings to register in the background of the heated kiss. Gokudera couldn’t believe it; Hibari really was kissing him. Albeit he was forcing himself and it made him a bigger bastard than ever, but he wasn’t trying to assassinate him. Rather…seduce him? Or something. Whatever he was doing, at least it didn’t mean it was the end of the Right Hand Man.

Overwhelming mixing of rage, relief and surprise distracted the Italian long enough for Hibari to convince his prey’s lips to grant him access to the heat between them. A brave tongue snaked its way into Gokudera’s mouth, tempting his to play along. It was a welcome sensation despite who it was from and how it was earned. The confused bomber was caught up in an inner war. Should he still fight? Just accept the advances to avoid retaliation? He tried to shift in a way in his seat that would at least give him some sort of leverage against his jet-haired comrade but it was no use; he was pinned down and at his mercy for now.

For a moment he fell into the deepening kiss, his tongue and lips starting to give in and conform to Hibari’s. It was surprisingly pleasant and skilled. The last person he expected to know how to kiss properly was the Cloud bastard. Sometimes he didn’t think the guy was human. He shared more qualities with the cyborgs from his futuristic novels half the time. Yet he couldn’t complain about the class of the kiss. Realization did hit him after he remembered exactly who had snuck into his office and annoyed the shit out of him before laying an unexpected and unwarranted wet one on him, which forced Gokudera to try to turn his face away and break the contact. Hibari didn’t like that.

A few quick movements later and the silver-haired Storm found himself with his face held firmly in those frighteningly strong fingers and angled in a way that made him even more vulnerable. Knees were squeezed in between the arms of the executive chair and Gokudera’s thighs. It pissed him off just how in charge Hibari was. As the leader of the Guardians, it was a disgrace at how easily he was pushed and pulled, molded into a form that the Cloud desired. Disgusting.

And delicious.

Gokudera would never admit it, but nothing got him riled up more than a thorough manhandling. Was one of his favorite fantasies and realities to live behind closed doors. Of course when he was alone and his brain was formulating his nighttime daydreams, it was usually someone who fit the bill of a top taking the position of his “owner”. Athletic, obviously built for brawn, attractive, Hayato’s mind usually wandered in the direction of the Rain or Sun. Even the Bucking Bronco worked his way into his imaginings once or twice. Or more. But never, not in a million years, did he ever fantasize about _this_ asshole. Tonfa-wielding dickheads weren’t his cup of tea.

Still, his nerve-endings were responding regardless of who was delivering the heated touches and sensations. He hated to admit it but Hibari was still providing all of the requirements of a man-handling and…he _really_ liked it. Conscious rage started to wilt into a kind of determination to not be outdone. Yeah Gokudera liked a rough, authoritative partner but like a high school delinquent, he wouldn’t let it happen without a fight. Was never his style to just let anyone have their way without challenging them, even if it meant he would lose control of the situation entirely in the end.

Teeth nipped at Hibari’s lips, making his brow pop over his right eye. An exploratory tongue braved a lap at him before diving in and meeting his. Interesting. Seconds ago the Storm Guardian seemed to be bristling beneath him, trapped in some kind of self-battle where he couldn’t decide if he wanted to run, kill or give in. It was astonishing to the disciplinarian that his target would turn over favorably. As the kiss was deepened from both sides, he noticed that Gokudera was gathering strength enough to move. Normally he would put a stop to that as he didn’t like letting herbivores gain any momentum but at the same time, he was curious as to how it would play out and if the Right Hand would actually dare to test him.

After a short struggle paired with a forceful kiss and nip to the tongue, Hibari found his grasp weakened and the tables turned. The bomber was now sitting straight up instead of pinned against the back of his own chair, one arm freed so a strong hand could pull the Cloud in by his hip, thumb pressed teasingly against the bone through his slacks. Strong legs walked the wheeled seat back to the heavy, paperwork-covered desk until Gokudera successfully trapped Hibari between himself and his work furniture, the loner Mafioso colliding with the thick wood in a forceful manner that produced a sudden pain that dulled into a spiteful sore spot.

“Ooh?” the Cloud cooed into the Storm’s lips, intrigued by the extreme change of heart. Seemed that Gokudera was finally awake enough to confirm that he was worth hunting that night. Green eyes illuminated by the gentle, golden light of a single desk lamp were heavy-lidded but locking onto gray, a fire smoldering in them. Those were flames that were fanned by an explosive combination of challenge and physical need that outweighed logic. Amusing to say the least to see this kind of look from the Right Hand aimed at HIbari. Albeit it was his goal for the evening. One of them anyway.

“Shut it,” Hayato growled between their lips. Dynamite-calloused fingers grabbed at the wrist near his face. “You come into my office,” he started, forcing Hibari’s hand onto the surface behind him. The wind from the quick movement sent a few papers fluttering to the floor. “And you don’t say a damn thing,” the bomber bit at the pale neck peeking out over purple button down, making the weapon-wielder hiss quietly. A reaction that brought a smug grin to Gokudera’s face. “Then you sneak up on me to do this shit?” Rolling hips paired with a rough hand still planted firmly on Hibari’s hip made both men suck in a harsh breath. “You think I’m gonna let you get away with that, you bastard?”

Dangerously angled gaze admired Gokudera with mild amusement; an achievement on the Storm’s part to get such a response. His retort was simple and just as frustrating as the rest of his antics to that point, “You will.”

“Asshole,” Dera spat as he fiercely worked at the buttons of Hibari’s still neatly buttoned jacket, freeing him as fast as he could from the outerwear so his teeth could sink into a deep violet-clad shoulder. “I’ll bite _you_ to death.” The Cloud’s eyes narrowed and the hairs on the back of his neck shot straight up.

As the seconds ticked by and the bomber started to take more and more control of the situation, Kyoya found himself sharing in the aura of annoyance that his prey emitted. He wasn’t one to truly relinquish power to anyone in any situation, no matter how desirable it may be. Hibari was more the type to make some _believe_ that they were dominating when in reality, it was he who governed all of their actions and responses. Whether it be the battlefield or the bedroom, this was just how he had to have things. There was no other way.

On the other hand, Gokudera was looking to simply test his midnight rendezvous until he was pushed into a level of carnal tenacity that would set him off, hopefully in a way that was pleasurable for both of them. However, against his usual mantra when it came to sexual encounters, the tenacious bomber found it in his best interest to reign in his nighttime guest and take over. Taking the position of the true receiver with anyone else was fine, but this guy? Absolutely not. If Hibari deserved anything at all, it was a vengeful dick in his ass.

Conflicting mentalities forced them into a frenzy of power play. Hibari trying to wriggle and claw into a position where he could manipulate his target in a favorable state of mind and body. Gokudera did his best to fight against any attempt made by his visitor, nails digging at skin hidden away under fabric and teeth, tongue and lips seducing deeper, rougher kisses, nips and sucks at any and all exposed flesh. A grind against him from Hibari made Gokudera start to lose patience. If this was what the Cloud asshole wanted, it’s what he would get. Two impulsive sets of fingers started to pull at the waistband of Hibari’s slacks, forcing them downward as much as their position would allow. Hayato’s lithe body stayed completely pressed up against his guest’s, Kyoya’s arms instinctively wrapping around the silver-haired bomber’s shoulders.

Most would think that at this point Hibari wouldn’t allow the Right Hand to maneuver them in a way that left him incredibly vulnerable. However, these were means to an end to him. That end being the leader of the Guardians under his control and completely at his mercy, writhing under him as the Cloud dictated the Storm’s direction, pressure and release.

It didn’t take long for Gokudera to get both himself and HIbari exposed to the air conditioned air of his office. Another stack of his papers became victim to their roughhousing and cascaded in a white, text-covered fan like a poker player spreading out a deck of cards. Whatever, he didn’t care. All that mattered was making the Cloud bastard both regret and thank every God ever conceived that he had visited him in the middle of the night.

As one hand seized his drawer handle, the metal rings on his fingers clicking against the polished metal, to retrieve the “emergency” supply he kept handy for such occasions, a strange howl filled the night air outside, catching Hibari’s attention enough for him to peer out into the darkness through the freshly cleaned window behind Gokudera’s desk. “What?” the bomber asked, pulling the bottle free and still eager to continue. The Cloud was still and silent again. Green eyes looked behind them as best they could, considering the high back of his desk chair. The moonlight was almost blinding in comparison to the soft light from his lonely desk lamp. “What?” he questioned again, more forceful this time. Now he was distracted from his task literally at hand. “It’s probably Jirou again. Damn Yamamoto probably brought him out for a walk-HEY!” Before he could finish speaking, the warm, wanting weight in his lap disappeared. Much to his severe irritation, Hibari was calmly retreating, pulling his jacket back on to its normal, neat and proper position.

Somehow his pants were already back in place.

“Where the _fuck_ do you think you’re going?” Hayato growled, sitting on the edge of his seat. He didn’t dare get up. With his sudden change in luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if some misfortune befell him and his exposed arousal forcibly met the harsh underside of his desk.

“I’m not in the mood now,” Hibari answered flatly, not even turning his cheek in the herbivore’s direction.

“Wh-What?!” the Right Hand barked at a volume that showed force and his deep distaste but didn’t risk waking any sleeping house residents. “Don’t you dare, get your ass back here.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, herbivore,” Kyoya turned one intense gray eye to peer threateningly at the man he was leaving disheveled in his wake. Gokudera’s lips curled back and his tongue clicked disapprovingly at the great disrespect as the tonfa-wielder faded into the shadows by the door and slipped into the barely lit hallway.

As the shakes from his rage settled, Gokudera melted back into his seat, frustrated and dissatisfied; a result of the encounter made obvious by his twitching, wanton arousal and unopened bottle in his fist. A low, rumbling groan vibrated in his throat, “Fucking Cloud bastard.”


End file.
